News is important, or…


I read the news every day. Some days, I wonder why I read it, some other days, it makes me angry. This morning, I read what is pictured on the left. Familial drama… in Norway… I had to get a map out to check where that is exactly. Oh, wait a minute, no, I did not, because there was a map with the article on

Then I thought for a while. This article gave me no information, nothing to reflect upon… What do I know, what are the facts? A boy killed another boy, don’t know why, don’t know how, don’t know what will happen… Wow! Here I go thinking, this is five minutes of my life I won’t get back, so I’d better make a post out of it.

It is amazing what newspapers will print when they have nothing to say, isn’t it?

I also read another article about a singer (Bertrand Cantat) who killed his partner, leaving behind her four orphaned kids. He went on to serve a couple of years in jail. When he came out, he went back to live with his ex-wife and their two small kids. Then his ex-wife committed suicide. Now, our singer is back on stage, launching his new album, asking to be redeemed, and everyone applauds… except one man. No, he will not invite the criminal on his show. BRAVO, Mr, Druker!

Well, simply put, it is the same as your Chris Brown / Rihanna ‘s famous break-up in 2009. Oh, if only Cantat’s former partner had not died, it would just have been a life-altering experience for all involved (sic!)!… Most importantly for the lives of two lovely and talented women and six innocent kids…

I read on Chris Brown explaining how tired he was to being tagged for a “mistake” he made when he was 18… If Rihanna had died, he would still be reflecting in prison… What a turn of events, and now, they are/might be back together… How forgetful are we!


I love you, you’re perfect! Now, change!

The title of my next book

I read this on a billboard the other day. I love the sentence, it should be the title of my next book. What a great sum-up of my previous relationships with narcissists.

I created a short video to explain how things get into place without the victim being able to do anything about it. When you watch this, and if (by luck!) you have never met a narcissist, you might go crazy and think “well, this Susan girl, a bit stupid, hey!” and you are right. Seeing from the outside and without being caught up in the context, it looks and sounds crazy.

A very important fact is that, when one lives with a narcissist, or is around one of these intoxicating people, time is lacking. He keeps you on your feet all the time, every action is done in a rush. Notice in the video how Susan is just getting over the fact that he asks her (tells her) to live together, when the door rings and her parents are here. Then the craziness unfolds, the marriage, parents over for the week-end in a place where she does not live yet (or has not even decided).

This is a good example of sharing the life of a narcissist. The victim is not given the time to react to the unbelievable news that constantly come crashing down on her like a tsunami on a wooden house. She is kept tense and alert of her attitude, so that she can cover up for the other people she cares about who also get sucked into the spiral.

Once the tornado is over (and many times it has lasted a decade or two), the victim is left powerless. Not only did the acts against her leave scars on her body and mind, but also her status in the world, in our society has been impaired. She needs to recover.

I write books about this. How to set oneself up (even from under the storm) so that the recovery becomes possible, or believable. Some readers (and sadly reviewers) have complained that I do not explain enough what people with NPD are. Well, the truth is, this is not important for me anymore. I rather focus on the victims, on me and you out there, because the person with NPD in our past has had enough glory to last several lifetimes.

Survive! Survive!

I called this blog “Surviving a Narcissist… or Two.” People are wondering if I am not being a bit melodramatic, are you? If you are, it means that you have still much to learn about what this blog is touching. Physical abuse (the one you see on TV or hear coming from your neighbor’s door) is just the tip of the iceberg.

Still when I wanted to find out information about my ex- and his threats to end my life, a lawyer / psychologist told me: “All men who voice threats do not end up killing their spouse, you should calm down and be more supportive!”

She was right in some aspect, physical abuse was just one of the many techniques this psychopath could use to get his ways, so, why should he just lack creativity and simply beat me up to death to take me down?

Dragging their horrible tantaculous feet around are the following crimes: psychological abuse, economical / financial abuse, emotional abuse.

A couple of years back, these crimes were ignored (after all, isn’t manipulation a useful tool in marketing or management?) and undermined. Now, slowly, we realise that these are violences and believe it when I say that they can lead a person to taking her life or killing, or more generally, to be killed one way or another.
Now we know better, and people like me are talking, writing, screaming.

Watch this video, this is nothing but a meeting in the park… yet, it is the onset for much bigger dramas to come. You might think this is just a “normal” story, but you would be wrong. This man used charming approaches to attract his prey. Then he managed to make her feel bad for not accepting his invitation and finally she gave in and he won, without her realising it.
They will go for a drink and she will feel compelled to share her story with him, thus giving him the tools he needs to dig his claws further into her heart, her soul, her life and of course, her future.

A taboo?

There are many things that happen in life and we want to share with someone, to exchange and relate. Domestic abuse is different though. Once you share your trouble with a family member or a friend, you very often realise that what many people want is not to know. Once they know, they can’t help it, but they do not consider you the same.

file4831259340810I always found this funny though. It is the victim who gets looked down.

When you open up, you also realise that everyone knew, somewhere, somehow, they knew the guy is a brute. They just never put one and one together to be able to expose him, but they knew. So, no big revelation here.

The big revelation, however, is the fact that you are putting up with it. Why do you put up with it? Why don’t you leave. And follow all very sound advise on how they would leave your husband, if ever… They are not walking in your shoes and they will never understand what you are going through.

Telling someone helps you, but not in an obvious way. It won’t help you to get out of it, it won’t help your father or your brother to break his face… At best, it will just continue on, at worse you might lose some friend.

However, assure yourself that it does help. How? When you tell someone, you will hear yourself saying it: you are a victim, you are an abused woman. Saying it is accepting it, and by accepting it, you are on your way to doing something about it, even if, for now, it is just something that sounds like complaining about your husband.

Will it ever go away?

Where has time gone? I have not been here writing about me, myself and I in a very long time. Well, to my defence, it was holiday, and these times of the year are just for relaxing and enjoying family.

Yet, I am back, with a knot in my throat. I feel bad today. It is Sunday, I am on the couch with my so cute puppy beside me, my house is beautiful, all is well, I have nothing to do, still I feel bad.

I have had this nightmare again. It comes lurking in the deepest nights and confuses me. At that time, I don’t know if it is real or not, but I suffocate, I can’t believe the odds that have put me in THAT situation again. What? He is here, he demands, he orders, he imposes, and I am doomed, out of air, and definitely pushed down by some massive force.

Then, somehow, when I am about to completely run out of air, I wake up, in a sweat, panting madly, and I open my eyes in the night, unable to let the feeling of freedom sink in. Yes, I am free, no, he is not here, yes, it was all a dream, no, rather a nightmare. Oh, God, when will it ever go away?

Then the day shows up and I am short-tempered, I am acting as he did in my awful dream. I can’t control myself, everything is a problem to me. No matter how I try to surrender myself to positive vibes, I am strangled by drama, sad emotions and violent feelings. I can’t take it anymore!

Please God, make tomorrow be a better day, or rather make tonight a better night!

Taking the chance again?

Would I ever take the chance to love someone else? Would I ever entirely give myself up to a man in the name of love as I did in the past?

I must admit, I had laid the ground for it. Somehow, my need for love was too great. My first boyfriend used to drive past my home every day on his way to work. He’d stop before lunch, after lunch, after work and after dinner, in between these were the phone calls to repeat what we had just said or talk about the week-end parties. This was ok. We were seventeen. What was not ok was my attitude. As soon as I heard his car pull up, I’d be on my feet, racing to the door to greet him, ran to his arms. we kissed, we whispered “I love you” and other non-sense to each other’s ear. One day, my Dad gently pulled the alarm:

-“Maybe you should not run to him every time he comes, you could wait here until he enters the house.”

file000867052387I couldn’t care less. I had to show my love, I had to get love, I had to get as much as possible, and totally give myself in to these emotions. I can’t say that was bad. My first boyfriend was one of the two men in my life who did not abuse me, insult me, or hit me. So kuddos to him!

Could I ever trust someone again like I trusted him? Will I ever be able to listen to a man’s voice saying “I love you” without either bursting into laughter or pulling away as a survival reflex?

After all the psychopaths (in various flavours) in my life, I did say “I love you” to a man. Just to try it out and also because I had run out of things to say in intimate moments. I knew he was not bad for me, but I also knew he was not good. I wished at the time I could be just as innocent as I was at seventeen. It probably could have turned into a love story instead of ending with a two-line email.

Taking the chance again would mean letting go of my protective shield… I am not ready.

Always the same old story

Why is it so?
I browse around on the topic of narcissism. There are all kinds of forums. At the time of my “awakening”, these platforms helped me a great deal. I would never have been able to talk to any physical person if I had not done my coming out in the virtual world.

Yet, I read the same story over and over again. It goes like that:

– She tells her story. In her words, I can relate. At times, it is an exact mirrored recollection of my life with a narcissist. Somewhere, it squeezes my stomach. I can’t help it.

– People answer: some totally out of it, you know the type: “see a marriage counsellor, your love can still be saved!”… yuk! Others judge: “if you are so unhappy, why are you staying?” or “If you think he is so bad, why do you keep having kids with him?”… It would be great to see some statistics of how much these comments help the poor soul in search of a reaching hand.

– They she comes back and thanks everyone, and lines up all the reasons why she can’t leave: “don’t want to uproot the kids,” saint-anthony“she has her name on the house lease,” “she needs to save up some money” etc.. Well, you know the reasons because if you have ever been with a narcissist, you too used the exact same excuses. I know I did.

Sometimes, I get tired. The circle keeps on turning. There are the people who don’t understand, and those who understand too well and have no compassion left. I wish everyone would know that a word, a sentence, can do so much.
I remember going to church regularly at the most somber times of my marriage. I looked at Saint Anthony’s face. If you look long enough at something, the lines around it become wavy and the edges become blurry. Hence it gave me the feeling that Saint Anthony was moving, helping me. I was not alone.

Actually, in times of sadness and terror, all that matters is to know we are not alone.